Counting Kisses
by C.I.TigerFan
Summary: This is actually a fairly angsty story for such a hokey title! Story spans the length of the show expounding on the Chris and Mary dynamic in many of the episodes. As the title suggests, it's all about the kiss. Enjoy!


**A/N: Thank you to ****_Ghost_**** reviewer "Calvin Sloan" who sent me a message that said, "A show never dies as long as you keep it alive with your writing." You inspired me to revisit two of my favorite characters. Hope you enjoy!**

**Counting Kisses**

The first time he saw her, she was wielding a shot gun and chasing down a lynch mob to protect a friend, a colored friend at that. Not that Chris saw color, but it was unusual just the same.

The first time he thought he might kiss her, they had just returned from Wickestown. Their developing friendship had triggered a fondness in him for Mary that he hadn't yet dare to define. But, when he found her tied to that damn bed, scared out of her wits, something inside him shifted. If he could have killed that no good son of a bitch Wickes a thousand times over he would have.

He could admit now that it had scared the hell out of him too. She had held it together, however. Mary was strong and independent, frustratingly so at times.. He prayed that Wickes hadn't touched her. The fact that she was still dressed in her own clothes and the fact that they were neither torn nor tattered gave him hope.

Mary turned into him as they hit the open road back towards Four Corners, curling her fingers into his shirt. He wrapped himself about her as best he could in the saddle and tightened the hold he had around her waist. "You're safe, Mary," he whispered over and over again until she finally relaxed into him. When he pulled his mount up short in front of _The Clarion_, Mary cautiously lifted her head from the crook of his neck and squinted into the sunlight. She flinched when Nathan reached for her and clung a little tighter to Chris. He allowed her the time she needed to gather herself, gently ghosting his hands up and down her back before reluctantly letting her slide away into Nathan's arms.

When Nathan emerged from his one-room makeshift clinic, Chris was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. "She's alright. A little banged up, but he didn't touch her, not in the way your concerned about." Nathan watched as relief washed over Chris's typically stoic features. His eyes cut to the door that stood between him and the woman he desperately needed to see.

"Go on up. She'd like to see ya".

Chris hesitated, not sure visiting with Mary right now was the best idea for either of them.

"She needs you," Nathan quietly urged.

With that, Chris shot up the steps. Mary would always have what she needed if he had anything to say about it.

He knocked softly on the door and called her name. A few quick footsteps and the door flew open. In less than a heartbeat, Mary's arms locked around his neck, fingers seeking purchase in his shoulders.

Chris's arms banded about her waist tucking her into his chest. She cried and she shook as the last of the adrenaline drained away. She could let him be strong for her, just this once, and he was happy to do it.

Chris slid his arm behind her knees and cradled her to him. The rocking chair by the window became their sanctuary where he held her through the sobs and into the small hiccups as the tears began to dry and the fear faded away. When the reality of their current position settled in, Mary sat up a little straighter in his lap and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She peered up at Chris through wet lashes unable to stop the flush that rose from her neck to her cheeks.

"_Beautiful_," Chris thought as she wiggled her way out of his lap. She walked to the window and wrapped her arms about her middle as if she were trying to physically hold herself together. Chris ambled his way slowly to her side and dared to run his hand the length of her hair.

"Come on, I'll walk you home." She nodded her consent, and he turned her toward the door never allowing his hand to leave the small of her back until they reached the bottom of the stairs. It was late and the citizens of four corners, at least the respectable ones, were all tucked in for the night. Chris walked Mary through the doors of _The Clarion_, across the office, and right up to the door leading to her home.

"You okay from here?" he asked quietly. Mary drew in a deep shuttering breath and nodded. Chris gently turned her toward him and ran his hands up and down her still crossed arms. He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and turned to go before he betrayed what was fitting and proper. Mary let him go knowing he would keep watch over her from his perch across the street. It was the only thing that allowed her to sleep.

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The second time he kissed her, the innocence of it surprised him most of all. It was the second night of the long trip home from escorting the wagon train. She told Gerrard she couldn't marry him and Chris had been able to breathe again upon hearing the news. She had all but asked his permission on that old log, just the two of them. Had he been thinking with his head instead of his heart, he never would have asked her if she loved Gerrard.

Gerrard was a good match for Mary even if it broke his heart to admit it. He should have never offered Mary his one sided, selfish opinion, but seeing her there, blue eyes focused intently upon him, he felt like she could read the secrets he kept hidden away in his soul. Lying to her was never an option.

He and Mary hadn't spoken much that first day on the trail home. Mary had chosen to ride in the back next to Vin who was nursing a weary heart himself. She had caught him peering back at the two of them more than once, each time offering him a small reassuring smile that he felt himself returning despite his best efforts to the contrary.

Billy rode in the saddle with Chris secure in his sure and steady arms. Never had Chris heard one human being prattle on so about nothing in particular, well, except maybe Ezra, but at least he could understand what Billy was saying.

By the time they made camp that first night, Billy was sleeping soundly in Chris's arms and Mary was doing all she could to stay upright in the saddle. Chris handed Billy down to Josiah and spread a pallet under a tree for his smallest friend. Josiah placed him gently on the worn blanket and Chris tucked him in under his black duster.

"Quite the contrast isn't it?" Josiah remarked seeing the small innocent figure wrapped securely under the intimidating uniform of a seasoned gunslinger.

Mary joined the two men where they stood watching over Billy. "Thank you for taking care of him today," she whispered. "I hope he didn't talk your ear off."

Chris just smiled and returned his gaze to the boy as Josiah quietly retreated from the pair.

"How long has he been asleep?" Mary asked as she spread her own pallet next to her son.

"Lost him a few miles back. Pretty sure he even talks in his sleep," he quipped with no malice.

Mary stifled a yawn and smiled. "I guess we could all do with some rest."

Chris nodded once, "Yep. We'll make any early start of it tomorrow. Good night, Mary."

Mary watched him walk away toward the horses and took in a deep renewing breath. The last thing she saw as she settled onto her blanket was the gentle stare of the quiet man she had come to care about. She could admit to herself, at least, that he was the reason she couldn't marry Gerrard.

Vin joined Chris by the fire when everyone else settled for sleep. "You okay?," Chris offered along with a hot cup of coffee.

A humorless chuckle escaped Vin's throat. "Nope," he said and took a sip from the old tin mug he was holding, "but I will be, I suppose."

They sat in amiable silence, Vin watching the night sky and Chris searching the black expanse surrounding their camp, ever vigilant, while stealing glances at Mary where she slept securely wrapped around her son.

"She cares about you, you know."

Chris turned his eyes slowly back to the fire. "Yeah, well, that's the kind of thing that could get her killed."

"She don't see it that way," Vin said matter-of-factly.

Chris turned his gaze to Mary once again and was bombarded by unbidden flashes of a future, his future with Mary and Billy and more. He shook his head to clear it. A future with anyone was not something he needed to be contemplating. Nothing good could ever come of it, of that he was sure.

He dumped what was left of his cold coffee and stoked the fire burning in front of him. After one last sweep of the perimeter, Chris settled on his own hard pallet and allowed himself to sleep.

The second day of travel found Mary riding next to Chris toward the back of the pack. She had awoken warm and content to the distinct smell of leather and Chris. Certain she hadn't burrowed under his duster in the night, she dared to hope that Chris had perhaps quietly tucked her in as well.

Billy was unusually quiet in the saddle with Ezra of all people. He leaned back lazily against the well-dressed gentleman content to listen to the rise and fall of his southern drawl.

The group pulled away from their leader as he and Mary were satisfied with their own pace in the rear. A majority of the day was spent in small talk and companionable silence. There were shy glances and flushed cheeks, sly grins, and long stares. By the time they made camp that night, the electricity between the two was palpable.

Chris walked the perimeter of the camp, once again last to sleep. Mary watched him from where she lay, ever aware of the small spark that had grown and now burned steady for him low in her gut. She rose, quietly, and made her way to the tree where Chris stood vigil, his eyes heaven ward surveying the night sky. When she reached him, he casually turned his head in her direction giving her his full attention. "Trouble sleeping?" he asked, sly Larabee grin fully in place.

"I could ask you the same thing," she quipped, eyes on the sky.

Chris smiled despite himself. A loaded silence settled around them as they each contemplated all that has passed between them. Lost in her thoughts, Mary's hand flew to Chris's bicep when he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her toward him. He placed a long soft kiss on her temple and tightened his grip on her hip. She shivered as his lips ghosted over the shell of her ear. "You should get some rest. Long day tomorrow." As she turned toward him, he slipped away disappearing into the darkness just beyond the trees.

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The third time he kissed her, he was helpless to do anything but. His friends had just hauled him back from prison. Inmate 78. He had feared that would be the name carved on the marker over his grave.

Mary watched from _The Clarion_ window as they hovered behind and beside him on their way to Nathan's. They knew better than to do any more than that. Pride alone would carry him up those stairs. It wasn't until she tasted the salt on her lips that she realized she was crying. Wiping furiously at the traitorous tears, she decided she would find one of the men and ask just exactly what had happened. She didn't have to look far as Vin showed up at her office door less than an hour later. "Is he okay?" she blurted out before he even had a chance to say hello.

Vin dampened her worry with a reassuring smile and shared with her what exactly he knew of Chris's time in the corrupt prison. Chris hadn't been forthcoming with much of the details, but Vin knew his friend well enough to know that it had been bad. As she made to thank him and say her goodbye, Vin stopped in the doorway and eased his hat back onto his head. "Buck told him that you was concerned and that you made a pretty good case for setting chase to find him."

A pretty pink colored Mary's cheeks. "Well it's no different than I would have done for any of you, I assure you."

"Yes m'am," Vin drawled. "I just think he wouldn't mind if you checked on him."

"I might find him later," she said rather distractedly, "if I can get my work done here by a descent hour."

"Well, he's staying up at Nathan's tonight for a proper night's sleep, you know, if you was to get things wrapped up here in time to visit." He couldn't help the knowing little grin that crept across his face.

"Goodnight Mr. Tanner," Mary teased and sent him through the door with a friendly little shove.

Shortly thereafter, Mary found herself climbing the steps to Nathan's. She knocked on the door and, after a quiet, disappointing moment, turned to leave. She stopped, hope welling in her chest when she heard the door knob rattle and Chris opened the door. Her heart sped to a pace she was sure it had not attempted in years when she saw him standing in the doorway shirtless and shoeless with tousled hair and the top button of his pants scandalously undone. Her eyes roamed his chest where multiple deep bruises marred the tanned skin she had only ever pictured in her mind's eye. He ran his hand through his hair which only accentuated the toned muscles of his arms and chest and cleared his throat bringing Mary back to herself. She shook her head to clear her thoughts but not before a beautiful blush colored her cheeks.

"I… I'm sorry. You were sleeping. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Wasn't sleepin'" he said evenly and stepped back inviting her in wordlessly.

Mary hesitated, shocked by her less than prudent reaction to seeing him in his current state of undress before crossing the threshold and scurrying past him toward the window. Thoughts of their previous intimacy in this very room, not all that long ago, did very little to calm the flutter in her gut. She missed the quick upturn of his lips as he watched and wondered if she was remembering the same things he was.

He reached past her, brushing her arm in the process to grab his shirt from where it hung across the back of the chair. Mary stiffened before turning to face him unwilling to shy away. He struggled a bit, wincing as he worked the sleeve up and over his shoulder. Emboldened by his vulnerability, she reached for the collar and lifted the white shirt up and in to place before adjusting the front and setting to work on the buttons.

"Vin told me some of what happened to you while you were gone," she whispered and glanced up at him through her lashes.

When he didn't respond, she pressed on, hoping her voice would not betray the raw emotion she was desperately trying to keep at bay. "He said they had you in a hole... I..."

Chris gently took her trembling hands in his, effectively ending the battle she was losing with his buttons and pulled them to his chest. Mary's eyes shot to his and she nearly lost herself in the swirling storm of greens and blues that met her.

"Buck said you're the reason they came lookin' for me."

"I was worried about you," she answered in a rush. "You had been gone for too long and I was afraid... I... I thought..."

She flattened her hands against his chest needing proof that he was alive and safely home where he belonged. She was surprised to feel his heart racing in time with her own. He was freshly showered and shaved save the whiskers he had left under his nose, around his mouth, and down his chin. She longed to trace that line of stubble and had no power to stop herself from stroking his cheek. He smelled like leather and spice and she knew his scent would linger on her clothes long after they had parted.

In one swift move, Chris snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her flush to him. Mary's hand landed behind his neck and with one gentle tug, Chris's lips were slanted over hers. His kiss was agonizingly slow and tender almost reverent until a soft moan escaped Mary's throat. Propelled by desire, Chris urged her lips apart and Mary acquiesced willingly opening to him. Their kiss became fevered and urgent with only the need for breath forcing them apart. Mary dropped back to her heels and balled the front of his shirt in her fists. Chris rested his forehead against Mary's and struggled to slow his rapid breaths. A knock on the door sent Mary scuttling backwards towards the window.

Nathan entered without invitation and immediately felt the electricity in the air.

"Oh, Mrs. Travis, I didn't realize you was visiting''"

"Hello Nathan," she squeaked and cleared her throat. "I just came up to check on Mr. Larabee."

Nathan's attention shifted between the two but before he could work out just exactly it was he walked into, Mary was saying her goodbyes and heading for the door. The look on Chris's face betrayed nothing of the situation, yet somehow Nathan knew it best not to ask any questions.

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The fourth time Chris kissed Mary, he was sure it would be the last. Billy was safe from the men who had killed his father, but Chris lay shot and bleeding from the effort. Mary clutched her son to her chest and knelt down next to Chris. He could see how much it hurt her to see him like this especially here in the same room where her husband had died from a gunshot wound years ago. You never really get over something like that. Chris knew that harsh reality better than most.

"Go," he ordered. "Get Billy home."

Mary ran her fingers the length of his jaw and placed a hard kiss on his forehead. He spent yet another night at Nathan's but this time, Mary didn't come. In fact, he didn't see her again for days. It was only by chance that he caught her leaving Mrs. Potter's store late one afternoon. The smile she greeted him with filled his heart full of longing, something he hadn't known in a very long time.

"Feel like a walk," he asked.

Mary slid her hand into the crook of his undamaged arm and let him lead her down the sidewalk away from the hustle and bustle of Four Corners.

"How's the arm," she asked.

"Just a graze," he said and flapped his elbow in the sling that bound his arm to his chest.

"I'm sorry I didn't come and check on you. I just..."

"You don't owe me any explanations, Mary. How's Billy?"

"He's good thanks to you. I don't know what you said to him when you two were fishing, but it made all the difference."

"I just told him he didn't have to be scared. That I'm here to keep him and you safe."

Mary squeezed his elbow and slowed their pace, eventually stopping and turning to face him. He could see in her eyes that something was brewing. "What is it," he asked and cupped her elbow with his good hand.

Tears glossed her eyes and she blinked rapidly, trying desperately to hold them back.

Taking hold of his forearm for support, she shook her head and looked away.

"Mary?"

"Chris," she echoed, "you make me feel things that I never imagined I could feel. It scares me sometimes how much you affect me with just a word or a look... But... But I have to think about Billy. He's so vulnerable right now. I think that... I know that he sees you as a father figure, and seeing you and me together just etches that notion deeper and deeper into his heart. I think it would be best if we, you and I, I mean, if we..." She searched his eyes, desperate for him to understand that this decision was in direct opposition to her heart's want for him.

"I understand," he whispered unable to keep the disappointment from his voice. "You have to do what's best for Billy." There was no anger, only kindness and understanding when he spoke. "You tell me what you need from me and it's yours."

Tears streaked their way down her cheeks and Mary fell even more in love with the man in black as he spoke.

"Just be there for Billy. The rest can wait."

Chris nodded and slid his fingers into her hair. He placed a long and languid kiss on her lips, memorizing the taste of her on his mouth and the feel of her in in his arms. When Mary pulled back to see his face, she was surprised by the sadness she found in his eyes.

"This isn't goodbye," she promised.

"Feels a little like it," he countered kindly. He feathered his hand through her hair one more time and willed himself to take a step back. Mary once again tucked her hand in his arm and they ambled back to town in an amicable silence. Chris walked her to _The Clarion_ door and was surprised when she rose to her toes and brushed her lips against his. She smiled shyly, a little shocked herself by the bold move.

Chris returned her smile with a quick flash of teeth that Mary rarely ever saw. "Tell Billy I'm huntin' in the morning with Vin if he wants to come."

"I'll have him ready."

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The fifth time Chris kissed Mary, she rightly slapped the snot out of him. She had ridden into Purgatorio, alone, and on a mission. He thought he was imagining it when he saw her. His first thought was to get her off of that horse and safely into his arms. His second was shame at having left her the way he did only to end up here in the bed of a familiar whore.

He half dragged her out of the street and into his room. Her quiet dignity stood in stark contrast to the filth and depravity of the hell hole that was Purgatorio. She laid out the towns predicament before him, but she would not beg. When he resisted, she angled her chin skyward and spun on her heels to leave. Chris nearly knocked over the table between them in his haste to stop her. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him, hauling her into his chest in one swift motion. The fire in her eyes beckoned to him and he crashed his lips into hers. Mary froze, the war between desire and disgust pulling her hard in two directions. At last self-preservation prevailed and she shoved hard against his chest. Chris was just drunk enough to stumble backward away from her. Mary took one short stride back to him and slapped him as hard as she could right across his face. Suddenly sober, Chris drew himself up to his full height.

"You didn't seem to mind back at Nathan's," he hissed, voice cold and unforgiving.

"You weren't drunk back at Nathan's and you hadn't just run out on me and the town," she fired back with every bit as much venom.

"I didn't run out on you! I was dismissed, remember?"

"Not by me," Mary almost whispered. "I asked you to stay."

Chris ran his hands roughly through his hair. "You asked me to stay for the town, you said the town needed me."

Mary stepped closer, desperate for him to understand just how dire their situation had become. "The town does need you! That's why I'm here!"

Chris shook his head, and a sadness settled into his eyes. "It's not enough."

A hard breath left Mary's chest and she bit her lip to stop it from trembling. She nodded in defeat and turned to leave, head held high. She got as far as the door when she heard the hard pounding of Chris's boots on the plank floor. He grabbed her arms from behind and hauled her back to his chest. She felt his harsh breaths on her ear. "Tell me you want me to come back. Tell me you need me to stay."

Mary worked to control her own ragged breaths. When she felt some semblance of control, she pulled from his arms and turned slowly to face him. Truth be told, she did need him. Goodness knows she wanted him. She had missed his arms, his lips, his smell, and his stare, but seeing him ride out of Four Corners without so much as a backwards glance had hurt her soul.

Standing there so close, seeing the hurt and uncertainty in his eyes, Mary realized that, perhaps, in letting him leave, she had hurt him just as much. She took a tentative step forward and raised her hand to his cheek, still red from her angry slap. Chris relaxed into her touch turning his lips to her palm and releasing her name on a sigh. His sincere acquiescence gave her the courage she needed to rise to her toes and fuse her lips with his. Chris slid his hands around her back and pulled her flush against him. It was a hard, desperate kiss that threatened to erase any thought of what was happening back home.

Mary pulled back suddenly, eyes blazing, searching his for what, he wasn't sure. "Am I enough," she asked, voice thick with emotion.

Chris trailed the back of his knuckles down her cheek tenderly. "More than enough," he replied, unable to hide the emotion in his own voice.

It took weeks to repair the damage done by Royal and James. Chris and Mary barely had time to speak much less do any courtin' and sparkin'. The seven men once again charged with keeping the peace were also obliged to help the town and its people recover from the destruction. They had all pulled together to defeat the common enemy, and it had made them stronger, each and every one.

Mary had spent a long day finally getting around to cleaning up her own mess. She was headed toward the upstairs when she heard a light but constant tapping just outside her door. She immediately recognized the black, flat brimmed hat she spotted through The Clarion window. She pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders and stepped into the cool night air with a coy, little smile on her face.

"Mr. Larabee," she greeted him and leaned against the doorframe content to watch him work. "It's a little late to be making repairs, don't you think?"

A lazy smile formed on his face. "Been meanin' to fix this sign for days."

"Have you now," she replied easing a little closer to him.

"Yep. Guess I was hopin' too you might be able to thank me proper without pryin' eyes around, seein' as how the hour is gettin' late."

"Thank you proper, huh?" she asked with an arch in her brow.

She squealed when Chris grabbed her about the waist and hauled her into his arms. The sound sent a shock of desire through him having never heard Mary lose herself like that before. It was the sixth time he had kissed her, and the first time he had completely lost himself to her. Mary laughed into his kiss feeling lighter than she had in months. This was really happening and she was content to see how it would all play out. Chris was decidedly different than any man she had ever known before. She loved her husband, had loved him for more than half her life, but if she was being honest, he never thrilled her like this man did. Chris could curl her toes with one long, smoldering stare. She felt bold when she was with him. Perhaps it was because she knew he could and would protect her from any threat. Well, any threat that is but the ghosts from his past.

A scant few weeks later, Chris's father-in-law showed up hell bent on revenge for his daughter's death. Chris had been clean and sober since the day Mary had found him in Purgatorio. He was trying, really trying to be the man she knew he could be. But there was only so much a man could take when the dead came calling. Chris slipped away from Mary and back into his old ways. Quick comfort from a bottle or a woman pulled him back down the rabbit hole and Mary refused to follow.

When the Pinkerton showed up and Mary was threatened, Chris wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and promise her that everything was gonna' be okay. He couldn't do it though. He couldn't lie to her making promises he knew he could never keep. Things between them were not alright, and he feared they never would be again.

He was at his lowest point when Buck found him blind drunk and offered him an out helping their old friend Ella Gains. He returned home weeks later with a bullet hole in his gut and a lot of making up to do with his friends, his town, and the woman he knew he loved but didn't deserve.

He didn't blame her for the cold reception he received the first time he saw her outside _The Clarion_ office. He was setting in a chair, wrapped in a blanket, nursing his wounds when Mary handed him the letter from Ella. Inside he found a formal picture of he and Ella that made the bile rise to the back of his throat. He flipped the envelope over and his stomach dropped when he saw the letter was addressed to him in care of Mary Travis at _The Clarion News_. It was a warning, and it put the fear of God in him.

Mary paused when he called her name and she hated herself for it. It sounded like a plea but she would not, could not let him back in, not yet. Her heart still hurt too damn bad. When they had hauled him back, barely clinging to life, she had sat by his bed and prayed that he would find the strength and the will to survive. A part of her had feared that he would see death as his only option for peace.

She wept for him when no one else was around, held his hand when he thrashed from the nightmares that plagued his fever addled body. But when the worst was over and it was clear that he would survive, she excused herself from the vigil. She didn't know if the others had told him how she had agonized over his recovery or not. Truth be told, she didn't care either way. The fact that he had nearly gotten himself killed again changed nothing. He ran. Again. And she was threw caring.

Seven months passed and the two barely acknowledged one another. Mary would catch him watching her, green eyes almost pleading at times, always protective. As much as she wanted to ride out to his small homestead and what? Yell at him? Comfort him?, her heart still hurt, and her pride refused to relent.

He would catch her too gazing at him from The Clarion window when he patrolled the streets of the town that he had come to equate with home. His first concern was Mary and the boy. Ella's warning, ever present in his mind, kept him and the others on constant alert.

He was grateful that, despite her hard feelings toward him, Mary still allowed Billy to spend time with him. She would occasionally spare him a small smile or a gentle nod when she called Billy home, but never more than that. He knew he had hurt her, perhaps beyond what could ever be repaired, but he couldn't help the hope that sprang eternal every time she looked at him.

It wasn't until Ella's henchman showed up in Four Corners, Ella also present and in command, that Chris was forced to face the last of his demons. He had managed to keep clean and sober since his less than triumphant return to Four Corners all those months ago, sliding into a comfortable routine as both a deputy under the young yet watchful eye of Sheriff Dunne and as a homesteader, something he had scarcely dared to imagine possible not all that long ago.

It was Ella herself who walked into _The Clarion_ at dusk one fateful evening and emerged pulling Mary with her to the middle of the dusty street at gunpoint. Chris willingly faced her, unarmed, intent upon trading his life for Mary's. "Ella," he begged, the taste of her name like acid on his tongue. He swallowed hard and tried again, voice steady as he fought the fear rising in his gut. "Ella, you're problem is with me, not with her. She has nothing to do with us."

"Us? What us? There is no us, thanks to her. Do you really think I can let her live," Ella whined, madness evident in the edge and inflection of her voice.

Chris's eyes shot to Mary's pleading with her to trust him, just this once, willing her to understand that he would protect her no matter the cost. Ella's guttural growl pulled his attention back. "I loved you! And you betrayed me! All that work, clearing the way for you and me, all that wasted time and then finally, finally you came back to me..." She drew in a choked breath and tightened her hold around Mary's neck. "How did you do it," she whispered in Mary's ear pulling her tight against her. "How did you get him to come back to you? Was it the boy," she asked and Mary's knees gave way at the implied threat to her son.

Chris took a step closer testing Ella's response, and she pointed the gun at him. When it didn't stop his advance she pointed it back at Mary and Chris pulled up short. Ella pulled the gun across Mary's face as she wiped her tears on her sleeve and Mary turned her face away noticing for the first time the familiar long range rifle pointed in her direction from the second floor of the boarding house across the street. "_Vin_," she thought as her eyes slipped closed and she steeled herself for what had to be done.

Widening her stance for strength, Mary focused on Chris and drew courage from the familiar green eyes that refused to look away, eyes she had so desperately missed for too long. She gave him an imperceptible nod. Chris drew in a shaky breath and caught Ella's eyes. They were the eyes of a lunatic, red rimmed and empty, blinded by vengeance and void of any hope. He recognized those eyes as his own not all that long ago. Mary had brought the light back into his life, into his eyes and he would be damned if he would lose her now.

One, two long strides and Ella trained her gun on Chris realizing a heartbeat too late the game that was a foot. Mary dove to the ground crumpling into a ball and covered her head. In the second it took for Ella to pull the gun back toward Mary, a shot rang out from above sending Ella backwards with a sickening thud. Two more shots from somewhere nearby, and the early evening went silent.

Ezra emerged from the alley with one gunman in tow. Josiah shook his head from the opposite side of the street confirming another dead and giving the all clear. Buck and JD appeared together unscathed and Nathan tossed the gun clear of Ella's grip where he knelt next to her body. The nightmare was over.

Chris lurched toward Mary gently gripping her shoulders where she still lay huddled in a ball. He found her face and swiped at her tears with his thumbs. Mary crumpled his shirt in one fist and laid her other hand over his heart needing to feel the steady life confirming strum in his chest. He offered her a tentative smile and helped her stand.

"Vin... he..." Chris nodded not yet trusting his voice. "Is anyone hurt," she asked unable to pull her eyes from his to see for herself.

"No," he said, voice thick with emotion, "everybody's okay."

Mary collapsed into his chest on a whimper, and Chris wrapped her tightly in his arms pulling her as close as possible. She settled her nose in the crook of his neck and relaxed against him. He stroked her hair and whispered unintelligible words of comfort against her temple. When the men made to remove Ella's body from the street where it lay, Chris turned Mary away and walked her back to The Clarion. This time, when they reached to door to the stairs leading to her private quarters, Chris didn't step away. He instead scooped Mary up and into his arms just as he had wanted to do more than a year ago and carried her upstairs to her room. He was prepared for a fight or at least a snarky protest but none came leaving him unsure of what exactly that meant concerning Mary's current state.

He sat her gingerly on the edge of her bed and knelt down in front of her. Large calloused hands wrapped securely around their delicate counterpart. He squeezed them gently before dropping one in order to rest his palm against her cheek. Her eyes met his, but her expression was unreadable in the dim light of her bedroom.

"Why don't you get changed and I'll make you some coffee. You're freezing," he said knowing that the tremors that racked her small frame had little to do with the cool night air.

When he made to stand, she held firm to the hand she was gripping between her own. He settled back to his heels and covered their union with his free hand. "I'll be right outside that door. I promise, I won't leave you Mary."

He patted her knee and pulled away, leaving Mary to her task. When she emerged from her room in nothing more than her sleeping shift and a shaw wrapped tightly around her shoulders, Chris felt his heart seize in his chest from want and need. The need to keep her safe was overwhelming and the desire to love her too much.

"Was that the last of them," she asked, voice hoarse from unshed tears.

Confused, Chris furrowed his brow and waited for her to explain.

"The ghosts from your past... the ones keeping us apart... was she the last of them?"

He found himself planted in front of her before he had even made the decision to move. Hands at her waist he searched her eyes seeking her permission, her forgiveness, her heart. She raised to her toes, but paused when they were close enough for him to feel her breath on his lips. She dropped her chin in a moment of insecurity and he tightened his grip on her hips. He would never be sure if the seventh time he kissed her, it was actually him who closed the distance between them or if it was his Mary that took the final step first.

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A scant three months later on a crisp October afternoon, he gave her his heart and his name, and then he kissed her in front of God and all their friends. There had been a thousand kisses since then some sweet and familiar, others bruising and urgent, yet always rooted in love. There was no him nor her, only them and their growing family. It was rare that the nightmares threatened to take him under, but when they tried, Mary was there to steel him against the past and to remind him of his present, always there with a tender kiss that both calmed and ignited him in a way that only Mary could manage.

The last time he kissed her, he promised her that he wouldn't be far behind. With a concentrated effort, Mary raised a trembling hand and swiped at the silent tears that streamed relentlessly down his cheeks. After forty-two years, three children including Billy, and eight grandchildren together, time had done nothing to erase the beauty of her face and the spark in her eyes. As always, it was Mary that held it together, held him together as she slipped away. Chris felt her last breath ghost across his lips, and he was obliged to let her go.

True to his word, Chris followed his beloved to eternity nine days later, his heart simply refusing to beat without her. He was laid to rest next to his Mary under the big oak out back. They had spent more hours than anyone could count on the bench under that tree talking, arguing, touching, and yes, kissing, one of Chris's favorite things to do so it seemed. Mary always said that Chris could never lie to her, never remember to take his boots off by the back door, and never get enough of her kisses. No truer words were ever spoken.

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!**


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